


you got a hollow-point smile

by spookspork



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Badasses, Danger Days AU, Established Relationship, Graphic Violence, Kisses, M/M, alternate universe- danger days, gay theatrics, lots of blood, tae is a hostage but he's like chill abt it dw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-04 23:37:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17907872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookspork/pseuds/spookspork
Summary: He had been kidnapped, according to plan. Tied to a chair, which was to be expected really. But worst of all he was bored. He longed for the desert, for his car. For Ten.





	you got a hollow-point smile

**Author's Note:**

> so ORIGINALLY this was a short story about two OCs I wrote for my epq at school like 3 years ago but like I was bored so I made it taeten! I hope you all enjoy, I'm really happy with how this turned out (even though it is Short)! the entire aesthetic of this is based on the danger days MV with a couple of tweaks (the gold boots *wink*). ENJOY!

Taeyong’s broken voice echoed around the empty warehouse as he sang, swaying wildly as much as he could in the thick plastic ties that held him onto the chair. The song, he vaguely remembered, was from The Before, the time before the new politic, before he became a rebel and before he was tied to this chair in a warehouse in the middle of the fucking desert. The song was originally melancholy but coming from Taeyong it sounded more like a drinking song, with more wailing.

The room was huge and dark with thin lines of blurry light indicating the edges of a huge, rectangular door taking up most of the concrete wall in front of Taeyong, he had been put here like this to taunt him. The wall to his left reflected a little of the light from the door and occasionally he strained to see if he could see anyone behind the black glass. He had been kidnapped, according to plan. Tied to a chair, which was to be expected really. But worst of all he was bored. He longed for the desert, for his car. For Ten.

Hours passed. Probably. He’d never been good at guessing, he generally just got lucky. He remembered one time when he and Ten had been exploring an abandoned hotel and they took turns choosing doors to open, all of his were empty or had supplies. All of Ten’s… well, all those rooms were certainly occupied. He started violently swearing at the glass. He might as well ruin someone else's day really, it's not like he had anything better to do while he waited.

He was mid fuck you, voice growing hoarse, when the door in front of him started to roll up revealing a familiar pair of gold boots inch by inch. He howled “Ladies and gentlemen our special guest has arrived!”, when the door was overhead Ten bowed low, silver hair sticking to the thick lines of war-paint on his cheeks, arms spread wide. He straightened and strode over to Taeyong, brushing the hair away from his eyes, pulling a large serrated knife from his belt, holding it in a dagger grip. He tipped Taeyong’s chair back standing over him grinning manically, eyes gleaming, war paint like blood on his skin. Taeyong’s heart pounded in his chest. He sawed through the plastic bonds, never breaking eye contact, never nicking the skin. He crouched down to cut the bonds on Taeyong’s ankles and Taeyong could feel his breath warm through the zips on his legs. He savored the feeling. When he was free, he stood up, stretched out, dipped Ten low and kissed him, long and slow. Minutes, hours, days, years, centuries, millennia passed whilst Ten slipped Taeyong’s guns into the holsters on his hips, their rightful place, and slipped sheathed knives into the slots made by the open zips that made up his trousers, lips never leaving Taeyong’s.

The sounds of the knights falling into rank around them did not disturb them, the hollow clicking of their plastic armor barely registering. When they finally separated they had their guns out and they stood pressed together back to back. Ten holding a footlong shining blade in a dagger grip in his left hand and a white pistol in his right; Taeyong holding two white pistols. Everything was accented with white: the whites of their eyes, their teeth, their guns and the wall of interlocking armor forming around them, person by person. Monster by monster.

Taeyong and Ten closed their eyes, each taking a deep breath, feeling each other’s bodies rise and fall before pulling their triggers. Light exploded everywhere. Shots flew around them, each leaving a trail of white smoke and bright light all aiming for their brightly covered bodies and smiling faces. Taeyong was firing his two pistols with ruthless accuracy, picking off targets easily whilst moving about the inside of the circle, dodging shots like a dancer. Ten watched him whilst pulling his knife out of the top of some soldier freaks helmet, he felt it scrape against the thing's artificial skull and shot another white dressed monster between the eyes. Taeyong moved like murder was an art form and he was murder. Like killing was sharp and clean and distant and Ten was the one he danced for. It was unfairly beautiful and grotesquely picturesque. Ten shot another creature in the chest and moved like a hurricane, fast and elegant, stabbing and shooting, never still, leaving a trail of bodies behind that wolves would envy. Everything about the way they moved around each other was complementary and practiced, they were made for this. Together.

Soon the floor was running red and there was little of the bright white that had dominated before. There were a few soldiers left, looking a little worse for wear but still fighting with that state-induced courage they were famous for. Taeyong and Ten stood back to back again. The pressure of each other’s presence keeping their souls alive as they picked off the last few survivors. As the final body hit the floor and Ten wiped his bloody knife off on the sole of one of his boots, the mirror wall shattered and a tall body stood there; it wore the same uniform as the bodies that surrounded them but in a deep glossy black.

Ten threw his knife upwards and Taeyong shot it, causing it to careen upwards before falling, white hot and lethal. The black figure broke into a sprint, faster than any person, than any animal but Ten was faster. He plucked the knife out of the air, deftly catching the handle, and plunged it into the forehead of the creature. The heat of the knife melted the plastic around the blade. Ten didn’t feel the knife make contact with any bone, it was like stabbing a bowl of jelly. He looked, panicked at Taeyong, who wrapped his hand around Ten’s and together they pulled the knife out. Coming out it scraped on the inside of the thing’s head, like nails on a blackboard, and when the blade was free, the only color on its wicked length was strings of tacky black plastic. Taeyong grasped Ten’s hand tighter around the knife and pulled out one of the guns he had holstered with his other hand, just in case.

Bright red blood, brighter than blood had any right to be, dribbled out of the wound, then flowing, then pouring, it splashed onto the ground around their boots. It mingled with the darker, human looking blood on the ground in a flood of color. The blood ran. And ran. And ran. In torrents. In oceans. For minutes and minutes. There was more blood than any two humans had between them but still the creature stood. Until Taeyong gently poked its chest with his pistol and it fell, still bleeding, like a tree, heavy and immobile, causing the blood to splash up around it. Ten kicked it for good measure.

They walked out of the warehouse, kicking up blood like autumn leaves. Ten’s warpaint was smudged and there was a shallow cut high on one cheekbone, trickling cherry red blood that didn’t seem to dry. Or stop. Taeyong kissed him and said, “You’re an idiot.” It had no real force and Ten rolled his eyes languidly but pulled out a little translucent tube and spread a little of the gel from inside on the cut staunching the bleeding.

They climbed up the frame of the car, a mess of giant wheels and scaffolding to a neat red roofless car body. They knew it was a mustang. They just didn’t know what that meant. Taeyong pulled a piece of paper from under his seat and scribbled out the warehouse number with the stub of a pencil. Ten hauled himself up into the passenger seat. “We should find some doors for this. And a roof.” He said watching Taeyong carefully. Taeyong jammed a screwdriver into the ignition and sighed dramatically, “Did you have to kill the last one? We could have found out why you bleed like them.”

Ten held up a hand, it was covered in dried blood, not his own, that flaked as he moved, “we’ve done this a hundred times,” Taeyong interrupted, mumbling something about numbers, Ten waved the hand in front of his face and he stopped, “it always goes the same way. We can’t take the armor off because they bleed out. We can’t talk to them because they try to kill us. We can’t do anything. Let’s just go.”

Taeyong kissed his palm and twisted the screwdriver before suddenly remembering something, “Hey, did you have to wear my good boots for this?”, Ten’s laugh was almost drowned out by the sound of the beast roaring to life underneath them, a predator with the desert for prey. Ten pushed a button on the dash and the speakers screamed about the end of the world, whenever that was, and they disappeared into the desert in a cloud of sand and without fear.

**Author's Note:**

> please leave me a comment if you liked this!


End file.
